Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/59

 Just as of old that prudent, crafty bird of compound name

(And in parenthesis I'll say her nest is still the same);

Just as of old the passion, too, that fires the youthful breast

To climb unto and comprehend the old fire-hangbird's nest!

I like to see my old-time friend swing in that ancient tree,

And, if the elm's as tall and sturdy as it used to be,

I'm sure that many a year that nest shall in the breezes blow,

For boys aren't what they used to be a forty years ago!

The elm looks shorter than it did when Brother Rufe and I

Beheld with envious hearts that trophy flaunted from on high;

He writes that in the city where he's living 'way out West

His little boys have never seen an old fire-hangbird's nest!

Poor little chaps! how lonesomelike their city life must be—

I wish they 'd come and live awhile in this old house with me!

They'd have the honest friends and healthful sports I used to know

When Brother Rufe and I were boys a forty years ago.

So, when they grew from romping lads to busy, useful men,

They could recall with proper pride their country life again;

And of those recollections of their youth I'm sure the best

Would be of how they sought in vain the old fire-hangbird's nest!